


Glitter and Gold

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Series: Somewhere Between Memories and Scars [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ALL THE JAMESES ARE BAMFs ACTUALLY, BAMF James Bond, BAMF Q, Captivity, Criminal Masterminds, Discussions of Conditioning and Capture-Bonding, Flashbacks, Long-Suffering Sebastian Moran, Loyalty, M/M, Mycroft IS the British Government, Past Conditioning, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Suicide Attempt, Possessive Moriarty, Protective James Bond, Protective John, Psychopaths In Love, Q is not a Damsel in Distress, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Therapy in the form of interrogations, Therapy in the form of personal attacks, Tiny twist because I CAN'T RESIST IT, shit I have three Jameses now don't I?, welcome to part three!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-04 21:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14602587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: The pieces of Q's life have all fallen into place. Jim, James, Sebastian - everyone he wanted to have in his life is there, and he practically rules the criminal world. Plus he's been reunited with an old friend, a man he never thought he'd see again.But MI6 is coming after Q with a vengeance, and it's hard to fight them while also being confronted by the sins of the past. Add in a Holmes - or two - that don't know when to quit meddling, an age old secret, and a betrayal, and Q's life is about to get a lot more complicated (which is saying a lot, considering Jim Moriarty, the epitome of chaos, stands by his side).





	Glitter and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Points if you know the song that this title is from (and if you don't, look it up! It's great and fitting). And points later on if you catch my small Harry Potter reference!
> 
> NOTE: As of 5/15/18, I did some small editing to the two stories before this one. Nothing plotwise, but I came up with an idea for this one so I had to work some subtle references to it into Parts 1 and 2. You really don’t need to reread them (like I said, they don’t add or subtract from the plots of those stories) but I just thought I’d tell you.
> 
> Enjoy Part 3!!

The plane ride back to Europe was a tense one.

Three geniuses (one in a long blue coat who appeared to be _extremely_ on edge), three soldiers (all prepared to protect the separate said geniuses), and then the mystery card to half presentColonel James Moriarty, who was simply playing solitaire, completely ignoring the stares he could feel directed at him.

The moment they'd returned to the safehouse in Brazil, Holmes and Watson had been full of questions. _Moriarty has a brother? Did he take on his brother's name or do they_ actually _have the same name? Where's he been all these years? How did we never know about him?_

It reached a point where Q had loudly announced that if either of them said  _one more word_ without explicit permission he would have James or Sebastian shoot them, and he would not for one moment regret it.

(Jim and Sebastian had both grinned at that in amusement and James had rolled his eyes fondly. The other Moriarty brother had frowned at the wall of the safehouse, but hadn't said anything.)

Now, they were on a private flight back to Europe, and considering the  _various_ histories between all the people on the plane, the air was thick with tension. It was starting to get to Q, and he knew that both James and Sebastian were getting antsy with the feeling that they ought to be doing something. Over by Holmes, Watson looked a little twitchy himself.

Every once in a while Q glanced subtly at Jim, who was sitting across from him and staring out the window. He hadn't said much since they'd rescued his brother, which Q understood considering everything that had happened between the Moriarty siblings, but it was still extremely uncomfortable to Q. Jim and silence were two things that didn't go together, and the fact that Jim was now so  _quiet_ made Q feel the need to do something to fix it.

But there was no fixing that relationship, not really. Back when he'd been younger and at Jim's side, he'd tried a few times to convince the consulting criminal to reconsider whatever ultimatum he'd given Jamie to make him leave (because Q had actually not been privy to that discussion), but all he'd gotten for his troubles was a lot of pain and some angry sex.

When looking over at Jamie, Q didn't bother with subtlety; the younger Moriarty, in sharp contrast to his elder brother, was  _not_ a fan of the intricacies that came with covert operations. That wasn't to say that he was  _bad_ at spying or flying under the radar, but separate from work he tended to appreciate straightforwardness, and while Jim had never much cared to accommodate that, Q had been fine with it.

Jamiethough not looking back at Qwas of course aware that the hacker was watching, which he showed by quirking one side of his mouth. The half-smile caused the bruises on his face to stretch and tug, which then made the colonel wince. That was another side effect of Jamie's dislike of subterfuge; unlike everyone else he surrounded himself with, he never bothered to conceal his reactions to things. Jamie had always been incredibly easy to read, and seemed happy enough to be that way.

Since Jamie was letting him, Q examined the younger Moriarty. He looked...well, aside from the injuries left by the beatings he'd received in Spectre, he looked  _good._ His muscles were more defined than the last time Q had seen him, and his skin was far tanner; spending time in Afghanistan and Iraq could do that to you, Q supposed. The darker complexion complimented his black hair and green eyes well, and his face was thinner, which made his jaw more defined.

The two brothersJim and Jamiehad always been  _incredibly_ different in personality, and now they barely looked anything alike.

"I know, right?" Jamie said after a few minutes of letting Q stare, his smile growing. Jim's eyes twitched when his brother spoke, but he didn't move otherwise. Jamie rose his head to meet Q's gaze. "I look  _fantastic."_

Q rolled his eyes and ignored the way Holmes, Watson, James, and Jim had zeroed in on the coming conversation, all of them in varying stages of effectually pretending to not be listening.

"You have bruises covering yourself from your waist to your forehead," Q said dryly. "I wouldn't say that's your best look."

Jamie grinned roguishly. "And yet I'm still the most attractive person on this plane." Then a mock contemplative look crossed his face. "Well, Sebastian might surpass me in that area; for the moment, at least."

"You're a punk," Sebastian said without missing a beat, not even looking up from his phone. Q laughed. "Always have been, always will be."

"You know you missed me," Jamie teased back, laughing as well. He'd always been a charming little bastard.

Jim, Q noticed, was very tense where he was seated, his right hand clenched against his thigh. Q winced.

When the split had occurred sixteen years ago, Jim had been a mess of fury for weeks. The mere mention of Jamie had sent him into a rage, and Q and Sebastian still had a number of scars caused in that month and a half because they'd incited Jim's volatile anger. And here Jim was, watching Q and Sebastian easily banter with the younger Moriarty.

But Jamie was one of the few real friends Q had ever had, and being able to talk to him again was _brilliant._

"Thank you, by the way," Jamie said, turning to look at his brother. Q realized that Jamie had noticed the same thing he had and was trying to address it. For someone who hated the nuances in people, he'd always been incredibly adept at noticing them. However, what Jamie  _clearly_ didn't recognize was that  _talking_ to Jim wasn't going to be as simple as it had been before everything, and even back then conversations between the two had so easily turned tense.

"For rescuing me, I mean." Jamie continued. "I probably would've been dead in a couple weeks." His expression was so open, so  _honest,_ that it baffled Q for a moment; even knowing that that was just the way Jamie was, watching someone not hide their feelings after so long around spies was  _weird_ to Q.

"Yes well," Jim drawled, rolling his neck, "Someone had to save your idiot ass from your own stupidity."

Q sighed. Jamie rolled his eyes.

"That takes me back," the colonel said with a wry twist of his lips. "Always the stupid one, eh?"

Jim smirked. Q sent a prayer to a god he didn't believe in that this old, familiar argument wouldn't start again.

Jamie had gotten almost perfect scores on seven A Levels and attended Oxford on a full academic scholarship. He'd graduated in three years. He'd became a marine in record time and rose to the rank of colonel extremely quickly. Jamie, by all accounts, was an incredibly smart individual. But when faced with the brilliance of Jim Moriarty, all of that seemed to pale in comparison. Jim had certainly never let him forget it.

There was a tense moment, and then Jamie just sighed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He'd always had a far more even temperament than Jim, and in this moment Q was grateful for itthe hacker didn't feel like having to deal with any wounds that occurred if Jim got irritated and threw that knife in his jacket at his brother.

Q glanced around the plane, trying to gauge everyone's states. Holmes was looking between Jim and Jamie with clear fascination. Watson looked simultaneously perplexed by the interaction and slightly concerned at the volatility of the relationship. Sebastian was still just messing around on his phone, but Q could see how alert the man really was, as if expecting to have to intervene soon.

James, however, was just looking at Q. When the hacker met the Double-Oh's gaze, James tilted his head, a silent question. Q smiled back and tapped his pointer finger to his thumb twice, an old sign for  _All good._ James looked at him for another moment and then inclined his head in acceptance.

Having noticed the interaction, Jamie leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and smiled at James. "I don't believe I know you," he said curiously. "Curly and Doc over there-" he jerked his head towards Holmes and Watson, "-are famous, so I know them, but not you. And yet here you are, in the inner circle."

James rose an eyebrow. "Bond. James Bond," he said smoothly.

In response, Jamie grinned, bright and happy. He'd always been so much... _lighter_ than the people around him, an oddity especially considering the jobs he'd done for his brother and the marines. "007 working for Jim Moriarty? Ain't that interesting."

Sebastian's head snapped up in surprise and Q's lips parted. James just blinked calmly.

"Yes," he said, "I must admit to being curious how you know that, though."

Slowly, Jamie's grin settled into a smirk. He leaned back again, looking extremely satisfied. "I tend to keep an eye on the Double-Oh program. Who dies, who ascends...You know."

Q blinked, then again, and it hit him.  _"Oh,"_ he breathed. Jamie sent him a sly look and winked.  _"How?"_

James' eyes narrowed slightlygaze flicking between Q and Jamieand Jamie even had Jim's full-faced attention now. "Why might that be?" James asked.

Jamie shrugged as if it were no big deal, but he was still smirking, clearly pleased with what was going to be his big reveal. He might've been more easygoing than Jim in general, but he shared the Moriarty flair for drama.

"Well, it's always good to be up to date with your colleagues. After all, I  _am_ 001."

* * *

Alexander didn't meet Jim's brother until he'd already been the criminal's partner for ten months. In fact, Alexander hadn't even been aware that Jim  _had_ a brother.

The pair had just returned from a job in Russia. Alexander was pretty wired from the complete and utter success of the job, and he could tell that Jim was as well, so the hacker had tried to use the plane ride back to London to relax his muscles since Jim was sure to be interested in some vigorous activities when they arrived.

Instead they got back to Jim's apartment and saw someone cooking in the kitchen. Alexander immediately drew his gun, but Jim simply smiled and strode forward, looking amused.

"You damn bastard," Jim said, laughing a little.

The manabout six foot, black hair curling around his ears, bright green eyes, pale skingrinned back at Jim, looking up from the pot in front of him. "I believe that's my line." Irish accent, less prominent than Jim's.

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Where the hell have you been?" the criminal asked, the small smile on his face a contrast to his firm tone.

The man looked at Jim with an expression of fake offense. "Doing a job for  _you,"_ the man shot back, pointing an accusing finger at Jim. "Stupid fucking undercover mission," he grumbled. "An _easy job,_ I believe you said. Who the fuck considers an undercover mission that takes _a year_ an  _easy job?_ Hell, Jim."

In response, Jim just smiled pleasantly. "My estimation was six months." The man shot the criminal a glare, but it lacked any form of actual heat and only made Jim's smile grow. "You didn't seduce the daughter, did you? I told you she was your way in! If you'd fucked the daughter then it would've cut the time in half because she'd-"

"I  _did_ seduce the daughter," the man sighed in exasperation. He stirred whatever was in the pot before him.

Jim smirked. "It seems I underestimated your capabilities in the bedroom. Do you need pointers? I'd be happy to-"

"Oh, shove off!" the man replied, but he was laughing. He smiled at Jim. "It's good to see you, Jim."

"You too," Jim said with a softness that surprised Alexander. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Seeing as you were there for a year, I  _do_ hope you have something for me."

The look on the man's face was one that clearly said  _'What do you take me for?'_ "Yes, I finished the job. The files are on your desk, but before you obsess over them you're going to sit down with me and have a nice meal." That's when his gaze fell on Alexander. He looked startled. "Uh." He blinked. "Who's this?"

Jim looked back at Alexander and smiled. The hacker took that as his cue to join the conversation, so he stepped forward until he was standing at Jim's side.

"This is Alexander," Jim told the man simply. He took Alexander's hand and pressed a flirtatious kiss to itwhich made Alexander roll his eyesand then let go. "He joined me a couple months after you left for Germany. He's brilliant, really. He's been an  _immense_ help in expanding the organization. Alec, this is my brother, Jamie."

The hacker looked at Jim in surprise. Never once had Jim ever mentioned any siblings. In fact the only time he'd ever mentioned family was when he told Alexander that his parents were dead, and that was that.

"Hi," Alexander said after a moment, stepping forward and offering his hand to the _younger?_ Moriarty brother. "It's really nice to meet you," he said with surprising honesty. "Jim never mentioned a brother."

The man's expression was still slightly off-balance, and he was glancing between Jim and Alexander like he was trying to figure something out, or maybe  _had_ figured something out and was trying to tell if he was wrong. He took Alexander's hand, though, and smiled warmly. "Yea, you too. Any voice of reason around Jim is appreciated."

Alexander couldn't help but smile back. "Don't I know it," he said teasingly, glancing over at Jim. The criminal made an affronted noise and then flopped down into one of his plush armchairs.

"Well?" he prompted after a moment. "I  _do_ believe a home-cooked meal was promised."

Jamie, Alexander found after spending an evening in his company, was absolutely  _nothing_ like his brother. He was open and honest and wore his heart on his sleeve. Where Jim resorted to subtly and back-handed comments in his teasing, Jamie was startlingly straight-forward. If he had a thought he spoke it, if he had an opinion he didn't mind sharing, even if it was clearly something Jim disagreed with.

Watching the two of them interact was odd, really. They looked similar enoughJim's black hair was shorter but it was exactly the same shade, their pale skin matched, and they both had a slightly-larger-than-average foreheadbut they approached conversations and situations in completely opposite ways. Jim was  _Jim,_ always sharp and slightly manic, but Jamie was relaxed and easygoing, bypassing his brother's secrecy with the simple ease of someone who'd been doing it a long time.

And Jamie was far more charming; where Jim's flirtatious attitude always had a specific purpose in mind, Jamie's roguish grins and friendly winks were simply part of who he was, andlike everything else about himit was 100% sincere. After ten months in the company of Jim and various criminals, watching someone be so free and honest with their emotions was slightly marvelous, and definitely an oddity.

From then on, Jamie was a constant presence. After having been away for so long, the younger Moriarty sibling seemed content to stick close to his brother's side. He still went on jobs, but never long ones, and  _never_ ones that required undercover work. Jamie's dislike of subterfuge was obvious from the beginning and it was clear that he only agreed to do undercover mission when Jim absolutely needed him to.

Overall, Alexander had realized with slight surprise, Jamie's main job was that of an assassin. He was a very efficient killer, and though his general persona was easygoing and gentle, when you put a gun in his hand he was brutal and efficient, even while joking around like usual. Watching Jamie take out a target, actually, was when he most resembled Jimcalculated and sharp.

The only thing Alexander didn't like about Jamie was the way he looked at him sometimes. Not lustfully or even lovingly, but like he was trying to equate something in his mind and wasn't liking the results. Sometimes, when he thought Alexander wasn't looking, Jamie looked so  _sad._ And when the assassin walked in on Jim kissing the hacker passionately and laying him back on a table, worry and disquiet was clear in his expression before he turned and left them to it.

It didn't really make any sense to Alexander. It made even less sense that whatever was on Jamie's mind in relation to Alexander was the one opinion he wasn't voicing, when in every other aspect of their lives he was an open book.

Two months of Jamie staying around passed. Jim celebrated Alexander's one year anniversary with lots of sex and a beautiful theft job that left Alexander grinning and high on adrenaline.

Three days later a mercenary attempted to kill Jim. Instead, Jim hired the man and their organization gained a loyal soldier in the form of Colonel Sebastian Moran.

Alexander liked Sebastian. He had a wry sense of humor that could always make the hacker smile, he was wicked with a gun, and he wasn't afraid to make his exasperation with the geniuses clear to Jim. In the beginning Jim seemed consistently perplexed by the soldier talking back to him, and for a while Alexander thought the criminal might just kill Sebastian out of annoyance, but they all seemed to settle into a nice rhythm.

Another four months passed. Sebastian nicknamed Alexander  _Q,_ which seemed to delight Jim and definitely amused the hacker. The colonel always followed orders immediately, even if he grumbled about it or about _them_ specifically. Honestly, Alexander loved Sebastian's carefree way of talking to Jim, the soldier not even blinking when threatened with bodily harm by the criminal.

_(Sebastian also seemed to form something of a crush on Jamie, which none of themsurprisingly not even Jimever mentioned and Jamie didn't even seem to notice.)_

One day Alexander was in the bathroom cleaning up his wounds. A job had gone spectacularly wrong the day before and Jim had been _furious,_ which never meant especially good things for Alexander, and this time was no exception; Jim had taken out his whip lined with sharp metal barbs and struck Alexander's back with it until the hacker was screaming himself hoarse. The fucking that came after that was slightly gentler, but Jim had scraped his nails along the open lashes a few times, which had caused Alexander to black out for a couple moments.

Alexander hated when Jim used the whips that broke skin; other than the obvious reason of  _holy hell that hurts,_ the lashes were always incredibly difficult to take care of seeing as they were across his back and he couldn't quite reach all of them. He tried his best, though, glaring at nothing in particular the whole while.

Ten minutes into trying to clean and stitch the worst parts he could reach, the bathroom door swung open, revealing Jamie, who stopped short when he saw Alexander and realized what he was doing.

Jamie pursed his lips and entered the room, examining the lashes on Alexander's back with a sharp eye. He closed the door and locked it behind him, which made Alexander frown. There was a pause, and then Jamie said, "...Need some help?"

Alexander hesitated, and then nodded. "Yea," he said slowly. "Thanks."

The younger Moriarty brother didn't say anything in response, just approached Alexander and pressed gently on his shoulders to indicate that the hacker should sit on the toilet. Jamie then perched on a stool next to him and picked up the first aid kit. Alexander could see their reflection in the bathroom mirror, which meant he could see Jamie's absentminded frown as the older man efficiently cleaned the wounds and put a few stitches in the areas that needed it.

Eventually Jamie finished the work but he didn't move, sitting behind Alexander with one of his hands lightly resting on the hacker's hip. He hadn't looked up, either, still frowning at Alexander's back. Alexander didn't say anything, just watched Jamie's face in the mirror.

"Do you like having sex with him?" Jamie asked eventually, still not looking up.

Alexander's eyes widened slightly and he blinked rapidly, trying to see if he'd misheard. He hadn't, and he knew it; it was a hard sentence to misunderstand. "Sorry?" he asked, and it came out a lot squeakier than he'd meant it to.

Now, Jamie rose his head and met Alexander's eyes in the mirror, his gaze steady. "Do you like having sex with him?" Jamie repeated. "Do you  _enjoy_ sex with Jim?"

The hacker gaped at the assassin and then forcibly calmed himself down. "Of course," he replied, his eyes not darting away, his voice far more even than before. Now that he'd had time to comprehend that Jamie had  _actually just asked him that,_ he felt far more in control. "Now if I may;  _why_ are you asking?"

Jamie ignored his question. His expression didn't change. "So you're a masochist, then." It wasn't a question, and though his voice was agreeable, it was clear that he didn't believe it.

The answer to that question was...complicated. Sometimes Jim would do something painful to him that Alexander  _did_ like, that  _did_ make him feel amazing at the same time as it hurt. But most of the timewell, he endured. It didn't much matter in the grand scheme of things, did it? And after whatever they'd done in bed Jim always ran his hand soothingly through Alexander's head and murmured some Irish lullaby until the hacker fell asleep. It was nice, and it made Alexander happy. So if the pain beforehand made _Jim_ happy, then he was fine with it.

"Yes," Alexander replied, not faltering for one moment. He held Jamie's gaze evenly. "And frankly I don't see how any of this is your business, Jamie." Then he rose an eyebrow. "Do I have to worry about any _wants_ of yours?"

Jamie sent him a look that clearly said  _'You know that's not my motivation here, and it's insulting that you implied it.'_ And yes, Alexander  _did_ know that; in the six months Alexander had known Jamie, the man had never once looked at the hacker with anything resembling lust or romantic attraction. Jamie didn't have those kinds of feelings for Alexander. But he'd had to ask the question anyway.

"Then why are you asking about this, Jamie?" Alexander asked with a sigh. Never before had he wanted Jamie's straightforwardness as much as he did right then.

Again, Jamie ignored the question he asked. "You know, if he does anything to you that you don't like or forces you into things you don't want to do, that's rape. And I'm hoping to fucking god I'm wrong, because Jim's always liked causing pain but he never was..." he shook his head in frustration. "I never saw him as ignoring non-consent."

Alexander looked at Jamie for a little while, trying to comprehend if that was some kind of joke. But the younger Moriarty looked deadly serious in his opinion of his brother. The hacker couldn't help ithe laughed. It was a bitter sound. "Please tell me you're not that  _spectacularly_ naïve, Jamie. It'd be a big disappointment."

Jamie looked confused. "What do you mean?"

But the hacker just shook his head and stood up, reaching for his t-shirt and carefully pulling it on. He was smiling, but it was very far from a happy expression. "Nothing, Jamie, nothing at all."

He'd just reached the door when Jamie said, "I could get you out of here, Alec."

Alexander froze, his hand on the doorknob. His eyes were wide, his breathing momentarily stopping. "What?" he whispered.

"I have a guy that's really good at creating false identities," Jamie said, and Alexander heard him stand up. "He could set you up with a whole 'nother life, and I'd get you out of here. Jim would never find you; you'd be free to do whatever you wanted. You're only eighteen, Alecyou have your whole life ahead of you."

Alexander took a few deep breaths, schooled his expression, and then turned back around to face Jamie. "Where were you a year ago?" he asked quietly, calmly. He could feel his anxiety and desperation and long-buried anger rising to the surface, and for once he didn't want to contain it.

"What?"

"Where were you," he said, his tone becoming more steely. He took a step towards Jamie. "When I actually needed a rescue, when I needed a way out?" His voice rose in volume and an edge of hysteria began to crawl into it. "Where were you with your offers of  _saving_ when I was drugged out of my fucking mind for _weeks_? When I was conditioned into _murdering_ and  _torturing_ and participating in whatever struck his sick fancy? Where were _you,_ you absolutely naïve  _moron,_ when Jim took me from a bar and tied me to his bed and _raped_ me? Huh?  _Where were you?"_

He was screaming by the end, close enough to Jamie to pound his fists on the other man's chest. Jamie looked horrified and so disgustingly  _sad._ He caught Alexander's wrists and held them tightly, pulling the hacker close and holding him against his chest despite the way Alexander was thrashing.

"I'm sorry, Alec, I am, I would've dropped that fucking job in a  _second_ if I'd known," Jamie whispered against his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I'm here now, and I can get you out of this. I can get you away from my brother."

Alexander let himself sob once, a brief explosion of emotion, and then shook his head and gently pulled out of the embrace. "No, Jamie," he said quietly. "Justno. The time for that passed long ago." Then he rushed to the door, unlocked it, and got himself as far away from that room as he could.

* * *

The conversation to address that bomb of a statement was immediately put on hold, Q and Jim simultaneously declaring that it would be discussed _later,_ when two certain outsiders were removed from their immediate presence. Jamie acquiesced to that command easily and spent the next few hours smiling at nothing in particular and winking at Q whenever he caught his gaze.

When they landed, Q glanced over at Holmes, looking for his reaction. As expected, the detective was leaning towards the window, his brow furrowed in confusion, and he bit his lip. He shared a nervous glance with Watson. Q smirked. Looked like Jim was right;  _predictable._

"Something the matter, Sherlock?" Jim asked innocently, smiling at the tall man.

Holmes exchanged another look with Watson, licked his lips, and then hesitantly said, "This isn't Rome."

"No, course not!" Jim said pleasantly. "We're now in Hamburg, Germany." He paused, blinking as if surprised. His every expression was exaggerated. "Why? What's the matter? It's not like you had a team of all the king's horses and all the king's men waiting for us at the airport in  _Rome,_ right?"

His expression darkened instantly and he was on his feet, getting into Holmes' personal space and wrapping a hand loosely around the detective's neck. Both James and Sebastian pointed their guns at Watson to keep the doctor in place. Jim didn't look away from Holmes and he smiled, but his eyes were cold.

"Did you honestly think," Jim began dangerously, making Q and Jamie instinctively get to their feet, "for  _one second,_ that we wouldn't have anticipated that? You might be brilliant, honey, but you seem to have forgotten that you're up against two  _other_ brilliant people who were  _perfectly capable_ of assuming that you'd text Big Brother."

Nobody moved, least of all Holmes. Q saw that there was a knife in Jim's free hand, the criminal twirling it idly. It inched closer to the detective's stomach, which was about as far as Q was going to let it get.

"Jim," the hacker said quietly. Jim's hand ceased its slow progression forward and he tilted his head, never taking his eyes away from Holmes'. His hands twitched, both around the knife and around the detective's throat. "Jim, that's enough," Q said a bit more forcefully.

After a brief moment, Jim pulled back, fluidly moving away from Holmes and tossing the knife carelessly in James' direction, who caught the handle in midair and put it in his bag of weapons. Jamie was looking at Q, though, not any of the excitement, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, slightly confused. He glanced at Jim and then back to the hacker, and the obvious fact that Jamie hadn't been privy to the switch in control occurred to Q. He'd only ever known Q when the hacker had been following Jim's lead.

"Well," Q said lightly, "glad that's all settled."

"Are you going to kill us now?" Watson asked evenly, meeting Q's gaze with ease. Q had to hand it to the doctor; he might not have been as smart as the man he'd paired himself withor the people he tended to constantly be facingbut he was brave, and not an idiot like Jim made him out to be. He was, however, wrong at the moment.

"Kill you?" Q winced in distaste. "No, don't be-"

"Obvious?" Jim suggested with a wide grin, winking at Sherlock.

Q rose an eyebrow, aware that Jim was referencing some past event the three had shared (not a pleasant one, going by the look on Watson's face), but not much caring. "I was going to go with  _stupid,_ but sure, obvious works."

Then he looked back to Watson. "You dead does nothing for us, and as proven by today, you two can be  _exceedingly_ useful. The two of you are just going to board another plane as soon as you depart this one. It'll take you back to London, and trust me we'll be far away from here by the time you contact your brother to capture us."

Then Q grabbed his bag and headed for the plane's stairs. It had been a busy few days, and Q just wanted to get back to the apartment, fix Jamie up, get some sleep, and tryhopefully with the help of Sebastianto keep the two brothers from starting an argument that would end in bodily harm.

James immediately followed him out, then Jim and Sebastian, and after a few hesitant momentsin which they were probably trying (and failing) to come up with another planHolmes and Watson exited the plane as well.

Q pointed at the other plane just a few hundred feet away. "That's your ride, boys. Enjoy London." He turned away to follow Sebastian and James, who were heading towards the waiting SUV.

He'd barely taken a step when Holmes spoke. "I still don't quite understand," the detective muttered thoughtfully. When Q turned back he saw Holmes frowning at him.

"Hey, don't steal Johnny-Boy's line," Jim teased, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his face; where the man had produced them from Q did not know. Watson shot the criminal a dirty look and Jim smiled cheekily.

This really felt like a conversation that didn't need to occur. But in a moment of curiosity, Q figured he'd entertain it. "What don't you understand, Sherlock?" he asked with a sigh.

"You," Holmes said with a small shrug.

Q rose an eyebrow. "I am a complex individual," he agreed lightly. "But I'm assuming you're referring to something in particular."

"I understand that _sentiment_ played a part in it," Holmes began, and now he was looking at Q intensely, examining him in a way that was reminiscent of Jim. "But your return to Moriarty's side is honestly baffling. The old M's notes in your file listed out the injuries she'd found you with, as well as the obvious signs of torture and rape." Simultaneously, Q, Jim, and Jamie tensed. James and Sebastian were too far away to hear, but they watched the interaction with narrowed eyes.

"Be very careful, Mr. Holmes," Q said evenly.

But Sherlock, it seemed, wasn't even close to done.

"M had even wanted you to speak to a professional, apparently, since the way you acted back then made it clear to her that you'd been conditioned by Jim. As a seventeen year old boy you'd basically been kidnapped and forced into submissionboth sexually and in every other fashionuntil you'd do anything for Jim. At first I thought that Jim had simply been able to bring your old conditioning to the surface to make you rejoin him, and that's probably part of it, but now he follows  _your_ lead so I must admit, _Quartermaster,_ to being slightly confused as to why you've chosen to take this pathand taken a Double-Oh down with youwhen you could've easily dismantled the organization and returned to the good life you'd built at MI6. Instead here you are, standing at the side of the man who conditioned you into loving him and raped you for years-"

Q was moving before he was even consciously aware of it.

He struck out, landing a solid punch across Holmes' face and making the detective stumble back. Q followed it up with a quick kick to Holmes' stomach and then a hard punch in the exact same location. The tall man doubled over, wheezing, and Q took the opportunity to kick him again, which sent Holmes crashing to the ground.

Q wasn't even close to done, though. He straddled the detective's hips, punching him across the face again and again and again until the man's face was a bloody mess and Q's knuckles were torn. He could hear Watson screaming but didn't stop until the vicious satisfaction filled him at the damage he'd caused. Q heaved heavy breaths in and out, staring down at Holmes' bruised and bloody face.

The hacker leaned in close to Holmes' face and waited until the detective's eyes locked onto his. "A word of advice," Q said smoothly, his eyes still burning cold. "When a dangerous individual tells you to be  _very careful_ with your next words, maybe don't needle at sensitive topics. It tends to incite  _anger_ of a  _violent nature."_

Holmes coughed, a wet sound that implied the blood from his broken nose was trailing down his throat.

"Hating what happened doesn't make it any less true," he croaked, blinking hazily up at Q. "He did it before, and there's nothing stopping him from crossing that barrier again." He coughed and hacked some more. "The moment he decides that he's done playing second-in-command to you he'll put you right back where the two of you started, and you'll let him, because your affections have been conditioned and reinforced into existence."

 _"Stop talking,"_ Q hissed, filled with so much fury, and rose his hand, tightening it around Holmes' throat. "For once in your  _life_ would you just  _be silent?"_

"Sorry," the detective gasped, hands flying up instinctively to pull at Q's grip. "Silence has never been a skill of mine. Neither has denying the truth. I do-" he wheezed, "I do hope you come to your senses about the company you keep. Underneath everything, I believe you're a good man."

Q let go and shoved himself to his feet. For a moment he stared down at Holmes with bared teeth, imagining taking James' gun and putting a bullet in the big brain of the beaten up man. He didn't care who this man was to him or anyonein that moment, he  _really_ wanted Sherlock dead.

Instead, Q closed his eyes and willed himself into that calm, cold, apathetic mindset he'd spent so much time in many years ago. It rose to the surface easily, responding to the stressful situation, and when Q opened his eyes he felt no fury as he looked down at Holmes. He blinked blankly at the detective and then turned and walked away, heading towards the SUV.

As he moved he caught sight of everyone else. James had a sturdy hold on Watson, restraining him probably from the moment Q threw a punch at Holmes. Sebastian had his gun drawn, not aimed at anything but still ready, and his expression was set in the one Q recognized from the times he'd watched the marksman kill for them. Jamie was frozen, looking at Q with guarded, hesitant eyes, and seemed to be sad about something he saw. Q frankly didn't care. And Jim...

Jim stalked towards Q, his eyes dark with lust, his movements sharp and purposeful. Q's stride didn't falter and he calmly told the approaching criminal, "If you touch me I will shove my knife into your throat."

The criminal stopped instantly, recognizing that Q was in no way exaggerating, and backed off. And Q did not pause to examine his reaction as he normally would have. He just headed towards the car and didn't look back.

* * *

Before Q entered the room he stopped, pulled up short by the two voices currently engaged in conversation.

"...told me how you met him," James said smoothly, "but something happened between you and Jim and Q, and I'd very much like some more information."

There was a sigh. "Yea, I know," Jamie replied, sounding exhausted.

Q knew he shouldn't listen in. This conversation wasn't meant for his ears, and honestly at the moment he couldn't care less about anything either of them had to say. But he was vaguely curious, Q supposed, about what these two strangers were going to talk about. He couldn't give less of a fuck about the fact that he shouldn't eavesdrop.

Jamie was silent for a little while, and then he said, "Alec was brilliant, just like Jim had said when I met him after my mission. He had a real mind for planning and carrying out missions. It was something to behold, actually-" he laughed a little, a tired but still genuinely amused sound. "Well, you know that, don't you? He was your Quartermaster for four years."

James hummed in agreement but didn't say anything. Jamie continued.

"Well, like I said, he was brilliant. But sometimes he seemed so...lost. And his dynamic with Jimit just seemed so off-balance. Jim still  _listened_ to Alec and Alec was a crucial part of building everything they did, but at the end of the day the kid still bowed to Jim and showed up the next day with a few more injuries than he'd had before going to bed. He was someone who had the potential to rule the world, that was clear as day, but instead he was my brother's to command, which Jim seemed to really fucking relish in."

"You called him a kid," James observed. "You're only a year older than he is."

Jamie let out a small, breathy laugh. "You didn't know him back then, so you didn't see him. He just looked so  _young._ Unless he was in the middle of destroying his enemies or controlling some mission, of course." He made an amused sound, and then sighed. "He  _was_ a kid, and he had a life ahead of him. Me? I'd been killing people for Jim since I was fourteen. Jim was slowly sucking the  _life_ out of Alec, it was as clear as day.

"And it killed me. Watching Alec appear with bruises and whips marks and  _knife_ wounds...and whenever Jim would see Alec wince because of some injury he'd caused he got this look on his faceobsessive and dark and sadistic in the most lustful sense of the word."

Q could picture the exact expression Jamie was describing. In the beginning it had been terrifying, and then Q had come to appreciate the complete and utter way Jim wanted _him_ and just him, and then came to like it, smirking whenever Jim looked at him like that.

"I wanted to get him out of thereget him  _away_ from Jimas soon as possible," Jamie continued. The memory of the bathroom conversation popped into Q's head. "I knew a guy who was really incredible at creating new identities. I was going to take Alec to some far away country and make sure he had the chance to live any life he wanted, not the one Jim had claimed as his own."

"You loved him," James said, making an observation.

"Not in the way you're implying," Jamie replied wryly. "There was nothing  _romantic_ or, thank you very much,  _sexual_ in my feelings for Alec. I'd always had a soft spot for lost causes, broken things, and lonely people. Alec seemed to fit all of the above categories. I felt really protective of him, and more than anything I wanted him to be safe, which he clearly wasn't with Jim.

"Alec had a  _future,_ James," Jamie said, and now his voice was passionate. "An  _actual_ futurea  _bright_ one. He'd attended Cambridge at fifteen and graduated when he was seventeen. There were so many doors open to him. Jim just got there first."

The room fell silent, and for a moment Q wondered if that was going to be the end of it. But of course it wasn't, because there was  _far_ more to tell.

"So what happened?" James asked. Jamie made a questioning sound. "If that had been that, you would've still been working with your brother, Q, and Sebastian, but instead I've never heard of you and the way Jim responded to your presence made it  _quite_ clear that something went wrong."

Jamie laughed, but it was a hollow sound.

"Yea, well." He cleared his throat. "After Alec turned down my offer of escape, I tried to make his life a little easier, which of course ended in a confrontation with Jim where he accused me of wanting to fuck Alec and I told Jim he should let the kid go. That just made Jim even angrier, and he then came up with  _many_ variations of accusing me of wanting to take Alec for myself, which I didn't. Everything I said just seemed to make Jim madder. He started questioning my loyalties. He was  _unhinged_ like I'd never seen him before.

"I don't know what his reasoning was for what he did next. Maybe he still didn't believe me about not having feelings for Alec and wanted to show his _ownership,_ or maybe he just knew I cared _enough_ that what he was gonna do would still fucking hurt me. After hitting me a couple times himself and having his thugs hold me in place, Jim called Alec in and fucked him right there. It was absolutely brutal and I'll  _never_ get the sounds of Alec's screams out of my head.

"Then Jim murmured some soothing words to the kid, kissed his forehead, and sedated him. It was a kindness, I think; one of the few Jim's ever shown. Then he gave me an _insane_ choice: either I had to watch Jim fuck Alec over and over again until Jim decided I'd  _learned my lesson,_ or I left and didn't look back. You can guess which one I chose."

Q jerked back, his eyes going wide, his breath catching in his throat. No thatthat had to be a lie, it just  _had_ to. It was vicious and to Jim's style, and Jim had been seriously dark with Q in their first two years together, but he wouldn't use Q's  _body_ as a way of punishing his brother, would he? He would probably have been hard on Q anyway because that was simply how Jim had worked, but having Jamie watch? It was vicious and a perfectly aimed attack...

 _Fuck._ He actually did that. He offered Jamie that fucking awful ultimatum and Jamie had left and gone on to make something of himself. Oxford, army, marines, The Double-Oh program, apparently.

Also, how had Q never known about that? He'd been in charge of all Double-Oh missions. How had he never known that James Moriarty was 001? Q tried to think back over any interactions he'd had with 001 and saw they were minimal and never in person, usually done through a third party. 1 had simply been consistently out of the country, Q had been told, so an intermediary would work just fine.

M was a motherfucking  _bitch._

Both Ms, really. They both had to have known, and they both kept it from him. Q's lips curled.

The hacker turned from the room and walked away, not caring about anything else the two had to say after everything he'd heard. He didn't know _why_ Jamie had decided to share all of that with James, but it didn't really matter; there was a conversation he very much wanted to go have with Jim, probably with a knife in his hand.

That was when the wall of the warehouse exploded and a troop of men poured in.

* * *

When Q woke up, it took a while for his head to stop spinning.

Once it did, and he got his bearings, he leaned his head back on the thin mattress he was laying on and muttered, "Fuck."

After giving himself a few moments to just mentally curse over and over again, Q sat up and took stock of his situation. He was in what looked like an interrogation roommetal table with two matching chairs, cement walls painted white, one with a two-way mirror in itbut the door opposite him was heavily reinforced, had a meal slot in it, and was not openable from inside. There were five cameras on the ceiling: each of the corners and then one in the center. And, of course, there was the small bed he was on bolted to one of the walls.

This was a cell for long-term occupancy. A cell for someone that wasn't supposed to go anywhere and still was to be interrogated for information.

Q's wrists were connected by a pair of thick handcuffs and his feet were bound the same way but with maybe eighteen inches slack between the two cuffs. He wasn't locked to the bed, though, which Q counted as a mercy, so he stood up and stretched his back, rolling his shoulders, and checked himself over for any injuries.

Other than a small gash on his foreheadwhich had, apparently, received stitches while he'd been unconscioushe had some sensitivity and bruising over his lower chest, indicating there might be some damage to his ribs, but not bad enough that it really hurt. He frowned down at the injury anyway, trying to remember how he'd received it.

He'd been eavesdropping on James and Jamie. Then he'd turned away, intent on finding Jim and asking about that awful ultimatummaybe with a violent strike or twoand then...the wall had exploded. Men decked out in black and carrying large guns had come storming in. Q had pulled his gun immediately but they'd taken him by surprise and they'd already been so close to him. Two of them grabbed him, and he fought back. Someone landed a few punches and then another slammed the butt of their rifle into his temple.

Well, that explained the injuries, then.

Q's mind turned to everyone else. The hacker had been  _right_ in front of the soldiers' entrance but the others had all been spaced throughout the compound. They would've heard the explosion and hopefully went for the exits, but Q had a bad feeling that James and Sebastian had run right towards it. That was the way they worked. Q could only hope that Jamie had had enough sense to get Jim out of there, and that  _Jim_ had had enough sense to let him.

Having had just about enough of waiting, Q looked up at the camera in the far corner. He rose an eyebrow. "Any time you want to drop by, Mr. Holmes..."

He didn't actually expect Mycroft to show up for a while, since making your prisoner wait was supposed to throw them off-balance and make them fidgety; that was classic MI5 and MI6 Step One in breaking an opponent. Still, as ten minutes turned to thirty and then sixty, Q had to wonder why Holmes was bothering at allthe hacker had been in this business since he was seventeen and this basic psychological _bullshit_ wasn't going to mess with him at all.

When they hit seventy-two minutes there was a beep from the other side of the door, a few loud clangs, and then the thick door swung open. Before looking at whoever was entering Q took the opportunity to examine the door from the side that  _wasn't_ deliberately blank. He could see an electronic keypadten-digit code, probably changed at _least_ dailythree (no  _four)_ rows of thick metal bolts to keep the door in placeseparately from the two giant locksand then a fingerprint and eye scanner.

The security to keep Q inside the room was _obscenely_ overkill. And, frankly, it made Q preen just a little. Or, you know, a lot.

Done examining the door, the hacker turned his attention to the person now locked inside with him. But it wasn't Mycroft Holmes or M.

Q actually laughed a little, and then moved forward to sit in one of the chairs at the table. "So. Holmes' next play is trying to tug on my heartstrings? Odd tactic. I'm afraid it's going to be extremely ineffective. Though it  _is_ nice to see you, Mary."

Mary Goodnight looked as beautiful as the last time Q had seen her. Long black hair, bright blue eyes, slim and fit body...She'd always been a looker, gorgeous enough that she'd had all the male Double-Ohsplus 009, Cassandra, who enjoyed the company of woman as welllusting after her and making bets about which of them could seduce her first.

_(She had, of course, never taken a single one up on their offers.)_

Q had always liked her. She was smart and clever and just as good as any field agent at gathering information and gaining people's affections; Q could remember a specific instance when she'd gotten 006 to fetch her an entire four course meal and bring it to her desk while she worked. Q had laughed for a solid hour when she visited him and told him all about it. She'd also shared her chocolate cake with him.

The hacker knew why Mycroft had chosen Mary in particular in his attempt to draw on Q's affections. When Q joined MI6, he'd deliberately not attached himself to anyone, for good reasonhe'd just come away from almost being killed by Jim, after all, and was incredibly distrustful of everyone. He'd been polite enough to everyone and let them all think they really _knew_ him, but it wasn't until he met Mary his third year working at MI6 that he actually found someone he considered a friend.

Momentarily, Q felt sad for her that she was being used as a pawn in Holmes' game. Then again, Mary was a very clever girl, and she probably at least knew what she'd gotten herself into. Her presence however, would _not_ motivate Q to do anything he didn't want to.

"Have they fed you?" Mary asked, staring at him with her wide, kind blue eyes. From anyone else Q would've considered it a blatant manipulation technique, but Mary had always genuinely cared about everyone. She'd been nicknamed  _Honey_ at MI6 because she was so sweet for Christ's sake.

Q sighed. "Mary..."

"Oh shush," she interrupted firmly. "You and I both know that you wouldn't tell me anything about what you've been up to or have planned. I'm sure Mr. Holmes knows that, too, on some level. But I'm here, Q, so I'd like to make sure you're alright. Sohave you received food?"

The hacker frowned, thinking over what she'd just said.  _On some level._ No, Mycroft Holmes did not  _have_ levels when it came to logic or chess, which this was. He had moves and counter moves, all perfectly designed. In hunting him down, Mycroft would've read Q's entire _unredacted_ file and spoken to everyone he'd ever interacted with to try to figure out exactly how Q ticked. This amateur bullshit Holmes was pulling outthe man would  _know_ none of it would work. So why do it anyway? What was the point? What was Mycroft's endgame?

"No," Q said absently, "but to be fair to them, I've only been awake for about eighty-one minutes."

Mary frowned, still unhappy despite his assurance that they (probably) weren't starving him. "Yes, well," she said decisively, "as soon as I leave I'll make sure a meal is sent in. A proper meal, not some slop."

Q couldn't help ithe smiled crookedly at her, feeling slightly warmed by her familiar kindness. "Thank you, Mary. Now, will you tell me who was taken from the warehouse with me?" Mary pursed her lips, unhappy with  _him_ this time, but Q just kept smiling. "Alright, we'll do it the long way. More annoying, but alright."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked, looking vaguely nervous. Despite working with spies for  _years,_ she'd never quite mastered the art of a poker face. Her tells had always been easy to read. It's what Q was banking on right then.

"Bond." Nothing. "Jim Moriarty." Nothing. "Jamie Moriarty." A twitch of her eye. _Shit._ "Moran." Nothing.

Q let out a slow breath. Well, Jim hadn't been captured and neither had the two men really good at completing missions, so there was a possibility of rescue. Then again, Q had absolutely  _no_ idea where he was and the place seemed to be unbelievably secure, so who knew how long it would take? And Jamie had been take as well, whichunless spun correctlycould be very bad for them, and very bad for  _Jamie,_ considering that the man was a Double-Oh.

(How _he became 001 was definitely a story Q wanted to hear.)_

"Well, that's too bad," Q said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "We worked so hard to find him so we could get that intel and now you have your guy back."

Mary blinked at him and then furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

In return, Q frowned at her. "Are you kidding? You're joking, right? They wouldn't have brought you in on this whole shitshow without knowing the full story." She shifted uncomfortably, and Q's eyes widened as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh, they don't  _know."_ He laughed, grinning. "That's brilliant."

"Don't know what, Q?" Mary asked, leaning forward. For a moment he felt bad at taking advantage of how gullible and trusting she could be, but the moment passed quicklywhatever could help him protect Jamie from being called a traitor.

Q just shook his head. "I think that piece of information is a useful bargaining chip, Mary, and not one that I'm simply going to give away to you, despite how I've appreciated your friendship through the years."

Frankly, all of that was bullshit. But it was  _realistic_ bullshit, and heads of spy organizations never  _could_ resist a good old fashioned piece of intel that their enemy supposedly had. Plus it implied that Jamie had only been with them because they'd taken him for some information, which would help Jamie in not being considered an enemy combatant.

"Have you?" Mary asked, frowning at him with troubled eyes.

Q blinked, not comprehending where that question came from. "Have I what?"

"Appreciated our friendship?" Mary clarified.

Again, the hacker blinked. "Umyes. Why are you...why is this relevant?"

"You just _left,_ Q," she said with a quiet sigh. "You had a mission, you took it on, and then you  _left_ us. Me, Eve, R, Loelia, Stuart, Cassandrayou just turned on all your friends. M talked to all of us when it became clear you'd defected, as if we could've  _possibly_ had any prior knowledge. Even Cassandraa _Double-Oh_ tried to fight for you instead of facing the truth. But you'd betrayed us. So did we mean anything to you? Or were we just...just stand-ins?"

Q looked at her sadly. "No, Mary, you weren't stand-ins, none of you. I cared about you all, truly, and I still do."

"Then  _why?"_ she asked, bracing her arms on the table. "Why would you choose to actually join Moriarty? And not just that, youyou took  _control._ You had control of the organization but you didn't take it down, you didn't reach out to M, and you used Bond's feelings for you to make him work for Moriarty, too."

Q narrowed his eyes. "Watch your tone," he said dangerously. "I like you, Mary, but-"

"But  _what?"_ she asked urgently, but somehow her tone wasn't confrontational. "What  _happened_ to you, Q? He..." she hesitated, licking her lips. When she spoke again, her voice was much more quiet. "He hurt you, Q. He...he  _really_ hurt you. Do you even remember what you were like when you first came to MI6? Because I do."

"Mary-"

"You were distrustful of everyone," Mary said, rolling right over Q. "You  _flinched_ whenever someone tried to touch you and you got this look in your eyes when someone stood too close, like you were expecting something horrible to happen _especially_ if the person was male.

"You had a Go-Bag stashed under your desk and years later you told me that there was a last will and testament hidden inside it in case Moriarty found out you'd survived and came back to kill you. The will mentioned your little sister, Anna, on the off-chance that she was still alive, and you even left some things for your cousins, despite the history there. When you started trusting people that list on the will expanded to the old M, and  _me,_ and Cassie, and you even left something for Bond and Alec Trevelyan."

"Stop it," Q snapped at her. "None of that  _matters-"_

"Yes it does," Mary said sadly, shaking her head.  _"All_ of it matters. The fact that I once walked into your office to find you asleep on your couch screaming from a nightmare about _him_ matters. The fact that you used to come into work with giant bags under your eyes because you tried to stay up all night to not only  _avoid_ those nightmares but also because you wanted to be awake and aware in case he showed up _matters._ You were _traumatized,_ Q. And that's not even _mentioning-"_

She broke off, hesitating, and Q couldn't even look at her because he  _knew_ what she was going to say and he didn't want to fucking hear it. He didn't want to hear  _any_ of it. That person he used to be when he joined MI6, that fractured,  _broken_ person...it wasn't him anymore. He was strong and powerful and in controlbeing reminded of that period of his life was embarrassing. And it...hurt.

Mary sighed quietly and continued, her voice soft. "That's not even mentioning the two suicide attempts, Alexander."

Q couldn't take ithe slammed his hands on the table and jerked to his feet, his breathing becoming labored. Mary drew in a sharp breath and leaned back in her seat, but her gaze when she met his eyes was even and sad, not afraid.

"Be  _silent,"_ he hissed. His eyes stung and his throat felt tight. "I do not  _care_ about what happened in my past, Ms. Goodnight, and bringing it up hasn't done anything but make me angry at  _you."_

"You do care," she said quietly. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it. That pain you're feeling, Q? It was all caused by Jim Moriarty. I just need you to acknowledge that. I need you to see that just because it feels like you love him doesn't mean that feeling outweighs all the pain he's caused you."

"You don't understand  _anything,"_ Q told her sharply. His voice shook more than he would've liked. "You can't even  _begin_ to understand my mind, what I've been throughyou weren't _there,_ you don't  _know,_ I can't just  _walk away,_ he's the only thing-"

Suddenly, Q froze. The pieces clicked.

"That's why he sent you in," Q whispered. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it. Slowly he slid back into his chair. "It wasn't because he thought I'd be more likely to give you information; it's because he thought I'd be more likely to come undone. And when I was shaky and off-balance and doubting myself he'd come in to get something out of me. I have to hand it to Mycroftthe man is brilliant."

Q closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He could hear Mary speaking, but he tuned it out. She was probably just reassuring him that that _wasn't_ why she'd come to see him, but she could save her breathhe already knew she was a pawn in this game; Mycroft had used her personality to serve his own ends. It wasn't her fault, and Q wasn't going to blame her for getting played by a Holmes.

They were manipulative, sociopathic geniuses with a flair for getting their way. Q knew that well.

Slowly he centered himself, pulling himself together and locking all those unpleasant memories away. Even after he regained control he kept his eyes shut, because frankly he didn't feel like dealing with anything Mary had to say anymore. After a couple minutes the woman stood up and was let out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind her Q opened his eyes.

He needed to come up with a way to see Jamie. He didn't know if MI6 had classified him as an enemy or simply a captured agent, but he needed to find out and fast. He hoped that his vague comments about getting information from the colonel was enough to make them believe that they'd taken Jamie from Spectre not as a  _rescue,_ but as a transfer from one prison to another and only for the intel in his head.

The rest was really just up to the Double-Oh himself.

Briefly, Q wondered how Holmes had managed to find them, but all things considered that was very low on Q's list of priorities. He gave a brief thought to the younger Holmes, whom he'd beaten up pretty terribly. With a faint hint of amusement, Q wondered how pissed Mycroft was about having his brother returned to him in such a state.

"Information for information, Mr. Holmes," Q said politely, glancing up at one of the cameras. "You tell me something and I'll tell you something. Declining a question is allowed, but then the questioner gets to ask another and another until one is answered."

There was no immediate response, but then Q didn't really expect one. Mycroft was just going over all of his options in his head, but they both knew he'd eventually accept the offered deal.

And, sure enough, five minutes later Mycroft Holmes entered the extremely secure cell.

As an adult, Q had actually only ever met the man once despite their close work circles, at the old M's funeral. He looked pretty much exactly the same now as he had four and a half years agoshort-cropped read hair that was darkening with age, an expensive three-piece suit, and a smile on his face like he'd swallowed a lemon. His eyes were sharp and analytical. Q knew that if his life had gone differently, he and Mycroft would've gotten along pretty well.

"So," Mycroft said politely, "I believe you made an offer?"

The hacker smiled back at him, matching the politeness. "I did, yes. Shall I play White? Or would you like to?"

After a brief moment's deliberation, Mycroft waved a hand forward in a  _Go ahead_ motion.

Q didn't have to think about what he wanted to ask first, even though the answer to the question didn't matter much to him, just a vague sort of curiosity. "What happens to me now?"

Mycroft gave him a look like  _'You haven't figured that out?',_ which was fair. He knew he wasn't going to be tried in a court of law, because people like him didn't actually _have_ trials. And he wasn't going to be killed, because he was  _far_ too useful. The most likely thing was being locked up in a deep dark hole. But stillhe didn't know for  _sure,_ so out of a small amount of curiosity he thought he'd ask.

The hacker rose an eyebrow at the elder Holmes, waiting. Mycroft pursed his lips.

"You will not face a trial of your peers or be executed and buried in a shallow grave," the man told him evasively.

Q rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'd puzzled that out. And since you're not telling me that I'm going to be tossed in a cell with the key thrown away, I'm assuming there's some forth option I'm unaware of. Sowill you answer the question?"

But instead of answering, Holmes just smiled blandly. Q pressed down a spark of irritation. "If you're planning on ignoring everything I ask you might as well just leave, because I sure as hell won't be telling you anything for free."

Holmes pursed his lips and said, "There are certain individuals that seem to believe you can be rehabilitated."

The words took a while to sink in. And then Q burst out laughing.

"Oh my god," he gasped between giggles. "Your plan is to put me back at MI6? I've been the head of a  _huge_ criminal organizationparts of which would flat-out be considered _terrorism_ and you want to  _take me back?"_ He shook his head, grinning with mirth. "Whose bright idea was that?"

Mycroft tsked, shaking his head slowly. "My turn to ask a question." Q inclined his head in acquiescence, still grinning. "Where is James Moriarty now?" Q rose an eyebrow, and Holmes sighed. "Where is  _Jim_ Moriarty?"

"I haven't the faintest," Q replied honestly. "We didn't exactly have time to communicate before I was being knocked unconscious and taken to a secure black site by your men. My turn: What  _individuals_ believe I can be rehabilitated?"

"M, for one," Holmes said. Q sighed and leaned back in his chair, resisting rolling his eyes. "001, for another. And..." Mycroft pursed his lips. "And my brother, who's done his best to convince me as well."

Q straightened, narrowing his eyes at Holmes. That was quite an odd group of people he was claiming had convinced him.  _M_ Q understood; the man probably felt guilty about ignoring Q's fears and doubts and sending him back to Jim. He remembered Q's shakiness, so he believed he could be brought back. The fact that  _Sherlock Holmes_ had this opinion was slightly startling, since the last time the two had seen each other Q had beaten him up  _badly_ and threatened his life. Unless Mycroft had told Sherlock a certain big secret...Q didn't get it.

And Jamie...

The hacker wondered how Jamie had spun that. What had he said? If he was smart he would've done what Q had, which was make it sound like he'd simply been taken for information. But if he'd been "advocating" on Q's behalf then it would make that particular picture harder to paintkidnapped agents didn't tend to claim that their captors could be redeemed.

"How did you convince Agent Bond to join a criminal organization?" Holmes asked.

Q thought about his answer for a moment. How did he say that James had joined Jim because he'd do _anything_ for Q without giving away the Double-Oh's obvious weak spot? He couldn't lie, though; not only would it be breaking the deal, but Holmes would know, anyway.

"James is an incredibly loyal person," Q said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "He was always MI6's best because he was willing to do anything to complete the mission he'd been givennot for the thrill, but because he believed it what he was doing. Mthe  _old_ Mwas a large part of what kept him going. He was incredibly loyal to her. And when she died, he fell back onto that old, solid loyalty to Queen and Country. But..." he hesitated, thinking. "But individual  _people_ are what keeps him going, so...when faced with the choice, he chose to follow me, to protect me."

Mycroft tiled his head, examining Q intensely. "You tend to inspire that," he observed seriously.

Q frowned. "Inspire what?"

"Loyalty," Holmes told him. "You have Jim Moriarty following your every command. Sebastian Moran would kill for you without a moment's hesitation. James Bond betrayed everything he's ever believed in just to remain by your side. The idea of locking you far away was mentioned in front of Jamie Moriarty and we got severely threatened for even _suggesting_ it. You seem to have a gift for getting people to do anything for you."

 _It's a two-way street,_ is what Q didn't say in response. He didn't tell Holmes that he'd follow Jim's every commandhad, in the past. That he'd kill without a moment's hesitation if Sebastian was in danger. That he'd rip apart things that were important to him if it meant that James could stay with him. That he wouldand  _had_ threaten anyone he had to in order to keep Jamie safe.

"It's a gift," Q said dryly instead. Mycroft narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"What did Jamie Moriarty tell you about his time with us and how he got there?" Q asked, taking his turn.

Mycroft's eyes twitched. "001 had been tracking down some whispers about some Spectre members that hadn't been taken into custody. He missed one of his scheduled check-ins, and when an agent was sent to find him, he was missing. Two weeks of nothing later my brother told me that 001 had been taken from a small Spectre base by none other than Jim Moriarty and you."

That wasn't what Q had specifically asked, but he appreciated the background information all the same. "And again: What did 001 tell you about his time with  _us?"_

"Not what you've tried to imply," Holmes told him dryly. "He informed us that his brother and his old friend rescued him from Spectre  _not_ because there was information he possessed that you wantedwhich he predicted was what you'd tell us, actuallybut because Jim Moriarty and Corwin Holmes  _care_ about him, despite how they would try to deny it."

Q clenched his jaw. "That hasn't been my name since I was four years old," he grit out. "There was a legal change and everything. I would appreciate you sticking to it."

"Just because your father took you away doesn't make you any less of a Holmes, Q," Mycroft told him evenly.

The hacker rolled his eyes. This conversation was headed in a deep and intimate direction that Q had absolutely no interest in going down. "Spare me. Don't pretend you have some  _familial obligation_ to me or whateveryou were just talking about wanting to toss me in a hole."

"My parents had no way to fight your father's claim to custody," Holmes continued.

Q sighed and tilted his head back. "Must we discuss this?" he asked in a bored voice. His stomach turned. "It's been thirty years, Mr. Holmes, and it's completely unimportant."

"There were no outward signs of his cruelty that my parents could show in a court of law, and he was well-off enough that they couldn't argue you'd be better taken care of with us. They didn't want to let you go, Q, and neither did I or Sherlock."

The hacker rolled his eyes. "Mycroft, I dealt with my childhood issues a long time ago so let me tell you-" he rose his head again to meet the other man's gaze. "I  _don't care,_ alright? My mother died and my father got custody of me and Anna. It's ancient history. Hasn't mattered for years."

"Corwin-" Holmes began. Didn't  _that_ name bring back memories of when he was little?

"My name is Alexander Morris," Q grit out, glaring at Mycroft. "You either call me that or Q. Not Corwin." He rolled his shoulders. "Now, I do believe it's your turn to ask a question. What do you want to know about Jim?"

Even beneath the seriousness on Mycroft's face, Q could see a hint of self-satisfaction when the taller man asked, "What do you remember about your mother's death and when your father took you away?"

Q groaned and threw his head back. "That's not about Jim."

"The deal wasn't specific to being about Jim Moriarty," Holmes told him. It sounded like there was a smirk on his face, but Q wasn't looking. "Question for question, I believe is was you said."

"Then I'll pass," the hacker drawled.

"I get another question then," Mycroft said, sounding far too happy with himself. Q wanted to punch him.

"Any question you ask me about my childhood I will pass on, Mr. Holmes," he told the other man primly, raising his head. He smiled pleasantly. A spark of frustration passed through Mycroft's eyes, which Q took great pleasure in. "Seventeen years old and forward, that's what I'm open to answering."

"Ah, so you're willing to answer questions about the conditioning process you went through so that we can begin to fully dismantle it?" Mycroft shot back, his tone perfectly matching the pleasantness of Q's smile.

Q's eyes twitched in irritation. "You all are so obsessed with that," he said in exasperation. "Why can't you all just accept that  _yes,_ I was conditioned in the past but guess what? _It doesn't fucking matter._ Jim and I are bonded in a way you can't even  _begin_ to fathom. It goes  _far_ beyond how he messed with my head. I'm not saying it's perfect but you chocking it all up to  _conditioning_ or _capture-bonding_ just shows how little you actually understand my mind or his."

"Wouldn't you say the exact same thing if your affections  _were_ just the results of years of only having Jim by your side? The results of spending _weeks_ being drugged and shaped towards what Moriarty wanted you to be, towards relying solely upon him? You are a textbook case of Stockholm Syndrome, Capture-Bonding, and _Conditioning,_ Alexander. You are a genius, there's no doubt about that, but sadly that doesn't make you any less susceptible."

Everyone kept mentioning this topic to Q as if it had never occurred to him. As if he'd never sat and thought about the possibility that these strong, powerful emotions he felt for Jim were just the results of having been conditioned into feeling them. Hell, that was one of the reasons he'd wanted M to not send him in. He'd been afraid of Jim controlling him through that.

But Q had come to the decision a while ago that that wasn't all it was. He hadn't been lying when he told Mycroft that he and Jim were bonded in an unimaginable way. They had the same base code, he and Jim. Whatever horrors started them on their intertwined path didn't matter when it came to the fact that Q could glance at Jim and know every thought in the other man's head. How he knew Jim's precise emotion at any given moment depending on the shade of his eyes or the twitch of his lips.

And Jim, in turn, could read Q like no other. Could  _understand_ Q like no other.

That's what Mycroft didn't understand. Yes, Jim had forced his feelings in the beginning. But that didn't negate the fact that at their cores they were the  _same,_ and Q didn't give a single shit about all the wrongs committed if it meant that he could stay with someone who for the first time in his life he truly belonged with.

"You are never going to see my point of view, Mr. Holmes," Q told Mycroft tiredly. "So what is the point in asking about it?"

Holmes pursed his lips unhappily. "Fine. Then tell me-"

A loud  _boom_ some distance away made the man cut himself off, jumping to his feet and whirling around to face the door with wide eyes. Q just smiled and leaned back in his chair, suddenly feeling perfectly at ease.

"I believe that's my ride, Mycroft," Q said lightly.  _"Thank_ you for your hospitality, though. I really have appreciated it."

After a moment, the elder Holmes turned to face him, perfectly composed except for the nervous twitching of his fingers. "Does Moriarty know who you are?"

Q tilted his head, furrowing his brow slightly. "You mean does he know that my mother was Sherlock's aunt? I don't believe it's ever come up, seeing as Jim's obsession with Sherlock started years after we parted. I don't think it matters much."

"Oh, I think you'd be surprised what the Holmes name can inspire in that man," Mycroft told him with a glint in his eyes Q couldn't quite interpret. "I think you'll find him knowing you're a Holmes changes the game  _drastically."_

The hacker frowned and shook his head. He didn't bother addressing the topic any further. "I do believe you might want to take a seat, Mr. Holmes. The people coming through that door might not be your biggest fans."

For a moment it looked like Mycroft was going to argue but then the man sighed and sat down, frowning at the wall as he thought.

In a flare of curiosity, Q asked, "Did you tell Sherlock I'm his cousin, by the way? Is that why he was advocating on behalf of my freedom?"

Mycroft's lips thinned. "He was advocating for you from the moment he got off the plane in London, bruised face and all. It wasn't until we captured you that the cat was let out of the bag, so to speak. He kept talking about tracking down your family members to learn more about your background, so..." he shrugged.

The taller man looked at Q now, holding his gaze evenly. "I want you to know that I've kept your secret for  _years,_ Q. I never told Sherlock or anyone who you were because I wanted to respect your need to start fresh. Even when you got involved with Moriarty and you and Sherlock could've had so much to talk aboutI figured you were owed by the Holmes family. It was the least I could do to...to try to right some wrongs, I suppose."

Q held the stare for another few moments and then lowered his gaze. "Does he remember me at all?" he asked quietly. "I lived in your house for four years, and he was seven when I leftare there really no memories there?"

"He didn't remember Euros, either, if it makes you feel any better," Mycroft said wryly. Q's eyebrows shot up. Mycroft sighed. "He blocked his memories of her...well, it's a long story. If you like, I'll tell it to you sometime." The booms outside began to get closer, along with some gunfire. Mycroft twitched. "But with you, it was just...he has faint memories of a smart child hanging around the house, faint memories of Aunt Adelaide being there, too, but the memories have never meant much to him, and he never really spent any thought on them. He is now, though, considering he knows the truth."

The room fell silent, both of them listening to the approaching sounds of a takeover. When Q looked up, Mycroft caught his gaze and quietly said, "I want you to know, Alexanderif you ever need anything...you can always come home."

Before Q could say anything to thator even _think_ of a coherent responsethe door flew open. A panicked-looking guard stood there, breathing heavily. He looked at Mycroft. "Sir! We have to get you out of here immediately! They-"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence because a bullet ripped through his skull.

Q got to his feet and began moving quickly towards the open door. Mycroft reached out for him but the hacker easily evaded the hand, jumping over the dead guard and out into the hall. There was another guard outsidethis one alivewho was aiming down the hall, but turned when he saw Q. Q took him down in barely ten seconds and grabbed the key from his belt, undoing his handcuffs and the cuffs around his feet. Then he looked up to see who'd killed the other guard.

Standing at the end of the hall were Jim and Sebastian.

"Hi honey!" Jim chirped with a flirtatious wave. "Miss me?"

Q grinned and took off running down the hall, moving as fast as his legs would take him. Jim grinned back at him and as soon as Q reached the other man he threw himself against him, kissing him passionately and wrapping his arms almost painfully tight around him.

"Took you long enough," Q breathed when they eventually broke apart.

"Well, you know, the traffic was  _dreadful,"_ Jim drawled in return.

"You and I," Q said, still slightly breathless and still grinning, "are going to have a  _long_ conversation about the ultimatum you gave Jamie." Jim's expression froze. "One that will involve me with a knife in my hand, maybe a whip or two."

Jim blinked once, twice, and then dove forward, once again kissing Q passionately, grinning all the while. "Sounds like fun!" he said lightly. "Right now, though, I believe it's time for us to  _go,_ and go  _fast."_

Sebastian led the way, taking out everyone they came across. Q followed his and Jim's lead, considering he'd been unconscious when the men had brought him in, and soon they joined up with James, who was guarding their exit. He smiled when he saw Q, small but genuine, and briefly examined him for any injuries that needed attention. Finding none, he nodded towards the door. "Time to go," he said smoothly.

"What about Jamie?" Q asked, pausing. There were a lot of things the hacker needed to ask the younger Moriarty about, and he couldn't do that if they left him to find his own way out of an extremely secure black site.

Jim's expression turned cold instantly. "He's the one who sold us out, Alec," he said darkly. "He told Holmes exactly where to find us and he hasn't been hanging out in a _prison_ _cell_ like you these last few hourshe's been sitting pretty with the big boys and making decisions about your fate. Just like sixteen years ago, he wants to take you away from me."

That...actually made a lot of sense, considering the things Mycroft had said. Q briefly felt a spark of angerbetrayal always hit hardbut he couldn't exactly claim to be _surprised;_ Jamie had far too good a heart for the industry he worked in, and he cared about Q enough to do what he could to get the hacker far away from Jim.  _Damn idiot._

"Let's go," Q said coldly, then turned to walk from the building before any reinforcements arrived.

* * *

They vanished. Planes, trains, and automobiles. They lost Mycroft's men easily.

And thenQ made Jim  _scream._

Q took his time. He strung Jim up and used every tool they had, every knife and whip and paddle and on and on...He licked the tears from the criminal's face and absorbed his screams and sobs through passionate kisses. He murmured soothing words all the while, mixing in reprimands for  _daring_ to do what he did, for offering that utterly ridiculous deal.

And when it was done Q let Jim down and treated all his wounds then laid him down on the bed. He gave him painkillers and kissed his forehead and sung a familiar Irish lullaby. "It's over now," he whispered, curling against his partner's side. He remembered an event in which their roles were reversed, an event of torture and forgiveness that felt so long ago. "This you deserved, but it's done now. The betrayal is  _done_ now. You are mine and I am yours, yes?"

"Yes," Jim whispered back. His eyes were burning, strong and passionate and lustful and filled with unadulterated  _love._ "Yes, yes, yes."

They fell asleep like that, safe in the knowledge that James and Sebastian were guarding them and MI6 was so very far behind them. Safe in the knowledge that no matter what anyone saidSherlock, Mycroft, Mary, Jamiethey belonged together. They had the same base code, the same core, and even while Jim and Sherlock were mirror images, even while Q and James had a unbreakable connection, it would  _always_ be Q and Jim at the end of the line. The horrors that brought them together had created deep wounds, but that didn't matter anymore. It hadn't in a long time, not when they still had each other.

 _Burn the world and everyone in it,_ Q thought, smiling as Jim drifted off in his arms.  _I am yours and you are mine._

In the morning, Q woke to a familiar hand carding through his hair and a familiar voice humming a familiar tune. The hacker smiled softly;  _familiar, familiar, familiar..._

"Hello," Q said quietly, opening his eyes. Jim's face was barely two inches away, his dark brown eyes glowing amber. His body must have been a mass of pain but his expression showed no signs of it.

"Hello," the criminal replied, just as soft. "So I've got a proposal. A big one." Q rose an eyebrow, amused; it was quite the odd time to be planning a job.

"Oh?" he prompted, a smile crooking his lips.

Jim hummed in confirmation. "Oh, yes. The job of a lifetime, really, and incredibly exciting. Long-term; will take everything in us to complete. It's a little terrifying, too, if I'm being honest. But we're _us,_ and I think we're up to the task. What better a partnership than you and me?"

"Must admit to being curious," Q murmured, still smiling. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Jim's lips. "Jim Moriarty, slightly scared by something and yet still terribly excited? Color me intrigued. What's the proposal?"

Jim smiled back at him, his eyes alight. And then he said the last thing Q would ever expect.

"Marry me."

**Author's Note:**

> So yea Q is a Holmes, because I couldn't fucking resist. I debated making him one because I was afraid it would maybe come off as forced, but I don't think so. I like it. Hope you did too!
> 
> As for the ending...well, considering the enormous bonds these two share, are you really surprised? I'M not, though I definitely wasn't expecting to write it when I started this story ;)
> 
> Also, funny side note: I was writing this at the same time I was writing chapters 1-4 of "People Who Move the World" (which also stars Q and Jim), so every once in a while I found myself mixing details together. I corrected myself each time, but it always made me smile a little at my mistakes. This is an utterly pointless detail, but one I thought I'd share lol.
> 
> See you next time!


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